gentleman, at the age of seventy-three, was heard in the hall. Hiram
had left the door open, so that Abel had full notice of his approach,
and rose just before the old gentleman entered, and stood with his cap
in his hand and his head slightly bent.

Old Burt came into the room, and said, a little fiercely, as he saw the
visitor,

"Well, Sir!"

Abel bowed.

"Well, Sir!" he repeated, more blandly, apparently mollified by something
in the appearance of the youth.

"Mr. Burt," said Abel, "I am sure you will excuse me when you understand
the object of my call; although I am fully aware of the liberty I am
taking in intruding upon your valuable time and the many important cares
which must occupy the attention of a gentleman so universally known,
honored, and loved in the community as you are, Sir."

"Did you come here to compliment me, Sir?" asked Mr. Burt. "You've got
some kind of subscription paper, I suppose." The old gentleman began to
warm up as he thought of it. "But I can't give any thing. I never do--I
never will. It's an infernal swindle. Some deuced Missionary Society,
or Tract Society, or Bible Society, some damnable doing-good society,
that bleeds the entire community, has sent you up here, Sir, to suck
money out of me with your smooth face. They're always at it. They're
always sending boys, and ministers in the milk, by Jove! and women that
talk in a way to turn the milk sour in the cellar, Sir, and who have